


Breath of Life — Mighty Nein University AU

by Ashburn1198



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Autistic Caleb Widogast, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, F/F, F/M, Funny, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashburn1198/pseuds/Ashburn1198
Summary: The Mighty Nein goes to Exandria University, and a friendship for the ages is formed.





	1. To Wake

Sweat. Adrenaline. Legs churning. Turf spraying in the air behind her. Diving onto the ground, ball in hand, on the endzone—

**_SNAP._ **

Yasha’s eyes flew open and she shot up in bed, gasping and groping for air. She shook from head to toe, soaked in cold sweat. The acrid stench of urine burned her nostrils. 

Another nightmare.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a few deep breaths, letting her heart calm down. She glanced over to the other bed in the room, topped with god knows how many blankets. The mountain moved up and down slowly with her brother’s breathing.

She sighed and climbed out of the urine-stained blankets. The bedroom was ghost-quiet, save for the soft creaking of the house settling. Rain pounded outside on the window. The light from the street casted soft shadows on the walls. The floor was littered with clothes and her brother’s magazines, many of which had a cannabis leaf printed on the front cover. His school posters were pinned all over the walls, mostly drama schools. There were pamphlets from his plays from high school, cast pictures, promotional pictures, designs from tee-shirts, set pictures and drawings, etc. He was extremely easy to pick out in the pictures, being an ostentatiously-colored lavender tiefling in golden-filigreed costumes he’d designed himself. There were pictures of her on his wall; polaroids from her football games and from his plays. She’d teched for him, helping him with his quick-changes. He once tried to convince her to be in a musical, but she couldn’t sing at all.

She was Yasha Nyoordin, the jock girl who was in drama. She was Yasha, the quiet one. She was Yasha, the scary goth lesbian who towered over everyone she met. That was just who she was.

And then everything changed on her last playoffs game.

The doctors said it was a miracle she had survived. They said it was a miracle that she had  _ only been paralyzed. _ But when you wake up in a stark-white hospital room, a cast around your neck and you can’t move your body even a millimeter, it doesn’t seem like a miracle. It seems like all of your nightmares are coming true.

But she knew it was  _ nothing _ compared to what Molly went through.

She shook out of her thoughts. She was in her room, with Molly asleep in his bed. She glanced at her alarm clock. 4:30 AM. She couldn’t go back to sleep.

There was a soft whimper, and a wet nose poked out from the side her bed, followed by the wriggly body of a Newfoundland covered in shaggy black fur. She chuckled and knelt down to give him a hug.

“You’re a good boy, Tyr,” She said softly. He whined, tail smacking against the wooden floor. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go run.”

She bundled the soiled blankets and sheets together and tossed the bundle into the washer with detergent and softener, then put Tyr’s service dog vest on. She attached a leash to his harness and they began running.

They came back at around 6 to find Molly awake, cooking breakfast and humming to himself. She took off Tyr’s vest and sat at the table, where he laid at her feet, looking up at Molly with hopeful black eyes.

“How was your run, love?” Molly said casually. “Feeling better?” He set a mug of chamomile tea on the table in front of her and kissed the top of her head.

“Much, thank you,” she responded quietly, hooking an arm around his waist. “How did you know—”

“You only go for runs at four fucking thirty in the morning when you’ve had a nightmare,” he said in the same hushed tone that she had spoken in. “And you’ve always drank tea afterwards. I know you, Yash.”

She chuckled. “Apparently.”

He set a plate laden with eggs and bacon in front of her and tossed her a fork from the drawer before sitting down and beginning to eat. Tyr whined. Molly scoffed at the dog and flung him a piece of bacon, where Tyr reached to catch it in his mouth.

“Ready to go to New York tomorrow?” Molly asked.

She nodded, giving him a weak smile. “Yeah. I’m nervous about the plane ride, though. I don’t know if my Xanax prescription is filled. I mean, a flight from Washington all the way to New York?”

“We can get it filled today, if we need to,” he said, taking another bite of egg. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be right there.”

* * *

 

Jester Lavorre was covered in head to toe with flour. It was smeared all over her cheeks and in her blue bob of hair pinned back with butterfly bobby pins. It faintly dusted her black twisting horns capped with iron. Her dark green dress, however, got the full force of the attack. It looked more like a pale green.

She finished putting the cookies on the plate with a flourish of her hand, smiling as she did so. “Done!” she chirped. “Now all I need to do is clean up!”

That was a task easier said than done. The kitchen was a war zone of thrown eggs and flour and cookie dough and something that could hopefully pass for melted chocolate dripping down the cabinets and coating the counter and tile floor.

Jester heard a faint chuckling from behind her, and a rustle of curtain… or a cloak, perhaps. The metal doorway symbol necklace around her neck flashed with warmth for a moment, and lingered.

She grinned and snapped her fingers, and, like magic, things began being cleaned up. The splattered eggs on every surface shook, and every part of them flew into the open air and reassembled themselves, the shell re-forming around a now unbroken yolk and egg white until all of the fissures and cracks were gone, where they then floated back to the open egg carton on the table and neatly inserted themselves back inside. All of the flour on Jester’s dress and hair and face and hands and the flour on the floor and the counter flew back into the bag, spilled sugar sailed into its own bag, and the glob of melted brown separated in mid-air into solid and singular chocolate chips into the nestle toll house bag on the table beside the egg carton. The kitchen was just as clean as it had been when Jester started. She put the cookies in the microwave and skipped off to the living room.

It was about two hours later when miss Marion Lavorre walked through the front door, laden down with a tote bag full of sheet music and CDs and a few bouquets of assorted flowers. Jester jumped up from her place on the red-velvet couch and sped toward her mother, taking the tote bag and at least two bouquets and setting them on the kitchen table before kissing her mom on the cheek. The Ruby of the Sea chuckled and hugged her daughter with her free arm before disappearing into her room. A moment later, the bouquets were gone and Marion was in comfortable silk pajamas rather than the starchy black v-neck dress she had performed in that night. She took a seat next to her daughter on the couch.

“Hello, my little sapphire,” her mom crooned, leaning her head on her daughter’s shoulder. “How was your day?”

“It was great! I baked you some cookies and I cleaned up after myself but technically I wasn’t the one who cleaned up technically—”

Marion laughed. “Slow down, my little one. Go back to the part where you made me cookies.”

Jester leaped up and grabbed the cookies from the kitchen and presented them to her mother with a flourish of her wrist.The red-skinned tiefling took one and ate it greedily as Jester took her seat on the couch again.

“So, little one, are you excited?” 

“About what, mama?”

Marion shrugged. “You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you? For college in New York.”

Jester froze, then her shoulders sagged. “Of course mama,” she said softly, then leaned onto her mother’s shoulder. “Of course I’m excited. I just… I’m not gonna see you until Winter’s Crest because you’re so busy and I’m going to be halfway across the country. I’m gonna miss you, is all.”

“Oh, Jester,” her mother cooed, then kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I’m going to miss you, too! I love you so much, my dear. I’m going to have a very hard time without you here in San Francisco.”

Jester sighed. “Don’t worry, mama. I’ll be back for Winter’s Crest in no time.”

* * *

 

Fjord was shoved to the ground.

“ _ Watch it, tusk-face. _ ”

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything by bumping into you—”

“Shut your face, scum-hide. Go back to the fucking ocean if you’re sorry. Do everyone a favor and drown yourself while you’re at it, slime-skin _. _ ”

Tears bit at the corners of Fjord’s eyes. He couldn’t cry. Not in front of them.

But he would be leaving it all behind soon. He could get away from Texas, and this racist town, and start over in New York.

There would be no one there to greet him tomorrow, though. Not like his parents promised him they would.

What’s the point of making promises you can’t keep? They had promised him that they would be together again in New York City, and they would be happier there. But they were gone. Gone on that gods-damned boat that sunk in the middle of the ocean. And he would never see them again.

He would never see them again.

Fjord shook his head to clear his thoughts and heaved himself to his feet, dusting off his jeans. Not now. Not now.

He made his way back to his foster parents’ house. He was only 16, so he couldn’t live on his own yet. He was told that it was better than sleeping on the streets. That it was better than all of those kids living in orphanages. 

He didn’t think so. Not with this family, anyway. He’d been through god knows how many families, but this was the worst so far. 

He very quietly twisted the front door knob and pushed the door open.

Oh no.

His foster mother, Rebecca, stood in the middle of the living room with a deadly calm expression.

“Where were you?”

Fjord’s heart stopped. “I-I—”

Fjord was on the ground before he could process what was happening. “Get in the basement. Ryan will be home soon and he’ll want to take care of the issue himself.”

_ No no no no no no no please no not the basement not Ryan no— _

“ _ DO IT. _ ”

Shaking from head to toe, Fjord staggered up onto his feet and shuffled to the door in the kitchen with a set of stairs leading into the subterranean section of the cold and unforgiving house. He carefully took a step onto the first stair, which gave an angry groan at his weight. He continued descending the stairs, where at the bottom he heard the quiet  _ click _ of the lock on the basement door close.

Freezing moisture clung to his skin as he sat on the dusty concrete floor. It was pitch-black. He couldn’t see anything. His darkvision required at least a tiny light source to magnify and exploit. He was trapped in the dark.

He hated it.

It was minutes later, much shorter than Fjord had hoped, when the lock opened and light flooded the stairwell. The silhouette of a tall, hulking figure standing at the door struck the wall.

Ryan.

Fjord’s heart began beating faster, faster, as Ryan slowly descended the stairs. Fjord kept perfectly still, however. He had tried to run before. It just made it worse.

* * *

 

Caduceus sat in the cafe, sipping tea from his cup every so often as he watched the street. Orlando was full of tourists this time of year, when summer was just ending and the world was green and hot and vibrant with color. He loved it.

This would probably be the last time he would come to this cafe in a long time. He was leaving for college the next day in New York City, and we would have to find a new cafe there. He would probably like Central Park, though. 

He felt someone slide into the chair next to him and he glanced over to see Beauregard slumped over in the heat. 

“I hate this,” she huffed. “It’s so hot. It’s not natural.”

Caduceus smirked. “You’ve only lived here for three months, Beau. It’s going to take some time to get used to it.

Beau grunted. “Whatever. Come on, we’ve gotta finish getting everything together.”

Caduceus took one last sip of his tea and the two took off in Beau’s jeep.

Beau sighed in relief at the rush of cold air from the air conditioner. “Excited about tomorrow?”

He grinned. “Oh, you know it. I can’t wait to see New York. That’s where my great-grandparents immigrated from Ireland, you know. Some of the first firbolgs to set foot in the new world.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yep. You’ve told me like, five hundred times, you know.”

They sped along until they pulled into a large house in a rich neighborhood. The two jumped out of the car and sped into the house and up the carpeted stairs before Beau’s mother could even say hello. They burst into Beau’s bedroom where they flopped on the now stripped bed.

“Oh my god, we’re actually leaving tomorrow,” she breathed, staring at Caduceus. “We’re gonna be free.”

“That we are, Beau. That we are.”

* * *

 

Caleb woke up on the flimsy cardboard with a start. Nott and Frumpkin were curled up at his side, snoring soundly. Light was beginning to creep into the alleyway they slept in that night, casting shadows on the buildings. He rubbed his eyes and slipped out of bed.

The dumpster they had slept under was still full, so Caleb broke open a trash bag and began rummaging inside. The smell of rotting food hit his nose like a punch to the face, and suddenly he didn’t feel so numbingly hungry anymore. He closed the dumpster and wiggled back underneath with Nott, who was beginning to wake up.

“Are you alright, Caleb?” the goblin asked, still half-asleep.

“ _ Ja _ , little one,” Caleb said absentmindedly. “The dorms for Exandria University open today. We’ll sleep there tomorrow night, you and me.”

“Will I be allowed in? I’m fourteen, and you’re seventeen.”

Caleb closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know, Nott. I’ll hide you if I have to. This means you have to start going to school, though.”

Nott groaned. “I know. I don’t want to, though.”

“I know you don’t.” There was the sound of footsteps. “ _ Ruhe jetzt. Jemand kommt. _ ”

A pair of Nike tennis shoes appeared in front of the dumpster. There was the sound of plastic sliding against metal, and the clink of tin cans, and the sliding sound again. The Nike shoes disappeared.

Caleb let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. “Alright, little one, let’s get out of here.”

Caleb scooped up his cat in his arms, and they began walking down the street to the massive University that waited.

 


	2. To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all reach our destinations eventually. For them, it was a little more interesting, however.

There was no other way to explain it: Yasha  _ hated _ planes.

But the thing that she hated even more than planes was the security. Strange people looking through her things and invading her personal space? No thanks. What was the worst part about it, though, was that they wanted her to take her bracelet off.

Yasha wore a stainless steel cuff around her right wrist engraved with runes and symbols that she had received at the hospital. It was the only thing that allowed her to remain mobile. And security wanted to take it off of her.

“Sir, I  _ cannot _ take this off,” she pressed. “I need it.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but if you don’t take it off, I’m going to have to call security.”

“Let her keep it on!” Mollymauk said angrily. She’s gonna fall to the ground like a limp sack of potatoes if you take it!”

“Sir, we cannot allow any external metal in the x-ray machine.”

Yasha sighed in defeat. “Fine. Do you have a wheelchair that I can sit in?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m paralyzed. That’s what this bracelet does,” she said very patiently, then held up her hand and tapped on the metal. “If I take it off, I am going to die. I do not have an oxygen tank with me.”

The TSA agent’s face became the color of sad oatmeal. “Oh. Um, nevermind, then. Please go on ahead.”

Molly glared at him before guiding Yasha to the x-ray machine. The two of them were scanned separately and passed without complaint and walked to the waiting area and took their seats. He looked at Yasha.

She had always been so gods-damned pretty. Not eye-poppingly, drop-dead gorgeous, but very subtle. Of course she looked stunning, it was  _ Yasha _ , but people didn’t see how pretty she got until they saw her at three in the morning, giggling about the cute girl she liked in Statistics or grumbling about the coach trying to get her to play football again. They didn’t see her in her pajamas on a Saturday morning sitting in front of the TV like the 1960s kids used to, watching cartoons. They didn’t see her with adrenaline pumping through her veins after a run, her face flushed and grinning with Tyr panting at her side.

They never saw her.  _ Truly _ saw her. And it broke Mollymauk’s heart that no one knew how beautiful Yasha could be. He loved her. With all of his heart. And he was so proud to be her adopted brother.

He snapped back to the present. The terminal. Yasha. The plane ride to come.

Yasha’s giant grey sweater that Molly would have drowned in fit her almost perfectly, but was just a little too big on her. She liked to hit him with her sleeves sometimes. Her hair was braided, like it always was. Complex and beautiful, with glass beads adorning the dreads. She wore a pair of simple black sweatpants and a pair of black gucci slides.

Molly rested his hand on Yasha’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said. “I should have done more—”

“I am going to  _ scream _ ,” Yasha gasped, clutching Mollymauk’s hand. The poor woman was trying not to hyperventilate. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Molly. What about your soccer-mom van? Don’t you need your soccer-mom van, Molly?! I would  _ love _ to take the soccer-mom van to New York instead of a  _ flying metal deathtrap _ .”

“First-years aren’t allowed to have cars,” Molly reminded her. “Or I would totally bring the soccer-mom van. I’m sorry.”

The speaker crackled to life. “ _ Flight 34 to New York City now boarding commercial class.” _ Yasha looked like she was going to pass out.

“Take the xanax now,” Molly instructed. Yasha swallowed the pill Molly had given her, and downed the entire bottle of water in what looked like one gulp. She tossed it in the recycling bin as they stepped up for the woman to examine their tickets.

Yasha was holding a stuffed rabbit to her chest as the woman scanned their tickets. She approved their boarding and gestured that they could continue on. Molly guided Yasha onto the plane and into the seat next to him.

Once all the safety regulations had been gone through, and everyone was buckled in, the plane began speeding down the runway. Yasha clutched Molly’s hand as they were pushed back into their seats by the plane’s liftoff. After about a half-hour, the plane stabilized in the air and began cruising.

“See?” Molly said to Yasha , turning his head to look at her,. “That wasn’t so—”

He found Yasha snoring in her chair, her blanket already wrapped around her shoulders. Molly chuckled, and stared out the window at the clouds below.

After about 5 hours, the plane landed. One of the flight attendants stood at the front of the plane and said, “We have arrived in Houston, Texas in our connecting flight to New York City. Please exit the plane only if Houston was your intended destination. Please make room for new passengers.” About half of the passengers exited the plane and were replaced by new passengers. 

A seat ahead of them was an orcish teenager about Molly’s age that had come from the Houston stop hunched over in his seat. An overbearing goliath man sat next to him, his arms crossed. The teenager looked…

...scared. 

Molly recognized that expression almost immediately. That was the face...that Yasha had made…

Oh god, no.

Molly very casually uncapped his water bottle and “accidentally” poured it on the teenager in front of him by jerking his arm forward very suddenly.

The teen jumped and smacked the man, who roared in anger and shoved the teenager away from him. The teenager looked back at Molly with confusion and anger.

“Oh my goodness, I’m  _ so _ sorry,” Molly said. “Oh,  _ Bahamut _ , oh, let me help you out. I have some clothes in my bag.”

The teenager looked back at the goliath for a moment before nodding, where Molly lead him to the bathroom with a change of clothes. Molly closed the door behind them and gave the clothes to the teen.

“I’m really sorry for that,” Molly said quietly. “But I needed to get you back here somehow,”

He looked up at Molly sharply. “I-I’m sorry?” he said in a texan accent.

“That man you’re sitting with. Is he doing anything to you?”

* * *

 

Oh, god. Somebody noticed. Ryan was going to kill him. He was going to die. He didn’t hide it well enough.

The purple tiefling dressed like a blaze of color in front of him dropped his shoulders at the sight of Fjord’s reaction. “Oh no,” he whispered. “He is, isn’t he?”

“No—”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

Fjord swallowed the lump in his throat. “He’s not doing anything to me.”

The tiefling sighed. “Please. You can tell me.”

“No. No I can’t.”

The tiefling looked at him with heartbroken red glowing eyes. “Yes. Yes, you can.”

_ What do I do? _

_ No. No, I can’t. I can’t tell him. _

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing that I can tell you.”

The tiefling grimaced. “Fine. Fine, okay. But you can talk to me. I will not tell  _ anyone _ .”

“And I respect that, sir, but I don’t have anything to say,” Fjord lied.

A moment of silence, and then the tiefling sighed. “Alright. Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to Exandria University—”

“Really?!” the tiefling said excitedly, letting him go out of the hug. “Me too! Oh, thank the gods. I hope you and I can be better friends, you know?” He stuck out his hand. “Mollymauk Tealeaf. And you?”

“Uh, Fjord.”

Mollymauk smiled, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “Wonderful to meet you, Fjord. Absolutely wonderful.”

Fjord changed his clothes (a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of poorly ripped jeans) to the clothes Mollymauk had given him (a comfy cable-knit blue sweater and grey sweatpants) and sat back down next to Ryan, feeling Mollymauk’s presence behind him.

Maybe New York wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

* * *

 

Jester couldn’t believe it.

The JFK airport was so much bigger than she had pictured, and there were so many people. It was beautiful… like… 

Jester could hardly believe it. She was so close to Broadway.

She had wanted to be an actress on Broadway for  _ Traveler _ knows how long, and now, she was so close to it. She could walk down to the theaters and stare at the signs. She could do whatever she wanted.

And she was so,  _ so _ excited.

She skipped through the terminal and got her luggage (several pink flowery patterned bags and two or three velvety red suitcases), but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of the most handsomest man she’d ever seen.

He was a half-orc man who was being guided by a purple tiefling dressed in some of the most colorful clothes that had graced her vision and a tall,  _ tall _ woman with braided and dreadlocked hair adorned with beads. He looked nervous to be in such a big place with so many people, but the two guiding him were grinning. Well, it was mostly the purple tiefling. The tall lady looked foreboding and a little scary.

But he was so handsome. Jester couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He wasn’t necessarily handsome in the way he looked (although he  _ definitely _ had that going for him definitely), but in the way that he walked. In the way that he stood and talked to his friends.

She shook it off. He was just a guy. Just a dumb guy.

She walked to the front of the airport and boarded a bus destined for Exandria University’s campus and sat down, her suitcases amassed by her feet, and realized who she was sitting next to.

It was the boy from the airport.

Jester tried not to scream while sitting as still as she could next to him. He was staring out the window with a single backpack in his lap, his black hair rustling faintly every time the bus hit a pothole. She noticed a tuft of white in his hair, tinged grey as it came closer to the black. 

_ Gods above _ .

“Um, hi,” she said skittishly. He didn’t take any notice. “Um, my name is Jester. What is your name?”

He snapped out of his trance and looked at her with confusion. “Uh, were you talking to me?”

Jester nodded, her grin growing.

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize, please forgive me—”

“Jester giggled. “You don’t need to apologize,  _ silly _ ! My name is Jester,” she said, then stuck her hand out for him to shake. “What is your name?”

“Oh, uh, Fjord,” he responded nervously, then apprehensively shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jester.”

Jester’s excitement grew and she began rapidly shaking his hand, much to Fjord’s apparent surprise. “It is nice to meet you, too, Fjord! So where are you headed?”

“Uh, the University—”

She squealed internally. “That’s where I’m headed, too! I hope we see each other around campus sometime!”

After fifteen more minutes of (slightly awkward) conversation, the bus pulled in front of Exandria University.

Jester had never seen anything quite like it.

* * *

 

Beauregard stood at the doorway of her new room and looked around.

It was small. Like,  _ really _ small. A quarter of the size of her room back home. It smelled like dust and faint mildew and just a little like cat piss, but there was something about it that made Beau giddy. She was out. She was out of that stupid fucking house and she was free and she could find someone who loved her. To make up for all of those years trapped in that house.

She really had been trapped in that house. Trapped in an unloving relationship with her dad. But it was over now, and that’s all that mattered. She didn’t have to be the  _ perfect daughter _ , the thing they always wanted her to be.

Well, enough depressing shit. Time to move into this place.

The room was a rectangle with two loft beds and two dressers on either side, with a window at the very end. Under the window were two chairs facing each other at a quarter angle. The loft beds each had desks underneath them with wheelie chairs. There were also bookcases for textbooks and such.

Beau made up her bed (blue and turquoise sheets, blankets, and pillows) and set her laptop on the desk and flopped onto the chair, staring at the space around her. She had never really decorated her rooms in all of the times they had moved into new houses—what was the point if they were leaving in a month?—so she decided that she would decorate this space. It was all her own, and it would be the longest she stayed in one place, so why not?

She looked around the space. The walls were whitish-grey, maybe, with bits of paint flaking off here and there. The light from the window struck the opposite wall, slashing bars of white onto the wooden door and the wall surrounding it and partially onto the wooden floor boards. Dust particles floated through the air.

The loft opposite from her was empty. Beau liked being alone, but… this was different, somehow. It was an empty that Beau had felt when she had asked her dad to spend time with her, and he always said the same thing:

“I’m busy.” 

_ No. Not right now. You’re free, Beau. _

She sighed and rubbed her face, her chapped lips rubbing against the palms of her hands. “Ugh. What am I  _ doing _ with my life? Gods help me—”

The door flung open and the thing that walked through made Beau do a double-take.

She was a tiefling with soft blue skin and a bob of dark blue hair that curled in at the ends. Her horns had steel caps on the points. She was dressed in a white tee shirt and a black skirt with pink knee-high socks and black and white converse, with a bright yellow jacket trimmed with pink. Her grin was the most terrifying and beautiful thing Beau had ever seen. And the suitcases she lugged behind her… So many gods-damned suitcases… 

She parked the suitcases at the edge of her loft and spun around, her devilish tail lashing out at the air as she stumbled, giggling. She had a childish air around her, and that became even more evident when she squealed and jumped toward the window, throwing it open. Cold, fresh air rushed into the room along with the warmth of the sun.

Beau gave a half-smile. “What a way to enter a room.”

The girl squeaked and spun around on her toes and saw Beau and… holy gods… she was the most beautiful thing Beau had ever seen in her life.

“Oh! Hi there!” the girl said in an eastern european accent. “My name is Jester! What’s your name?”

Before Beau could register what she had said, the girl was sitting on the floor in front of her. Beau had to catch her breath. “Uh, my name is Beauregard, but never call me that. My friends call me Beau.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Beau,” Jester said, smiling that devilish smile of hers. She had freckles that raced across her button nose and rounded cheeks. “Would you like me to help you set up?”

“Oh, no, I’m good, but, uh… thanks.”

Jester smiled again and sprung up, skipping over to her loft and began unpacking her things.

Beau took a deep breath. It was going to be an interesting year.

* * *

 

After checking to see that Beauregard was settled in (she seemed more alarmed by her roommate than anything), Caduceus went to his own room, which had the same setup as Beau’s. Window at the back, two lofts on either side, so on and so forth. It seemed that his roommate, however, was already in the room, sitting on top of his bed talking quietly to someone.

“Nott, you don’t need to worry. I won’t let anyone find you.”

“What about your new roommate? What if he rats us out?! You’ll be kicked out for sure!”

“I won’t  _ let _ him find out—”

Caduceus jumped and gave a little yell at the sight of the pair. 

One of them was a goblin. A  _ goblin _ with beady black eyes and sharp little teeth and… actually, her eyes were yellow, with the pupils black little slits. She wasn’t that scary, either. Her hair was long and black and matted and tangled, and the bandages on her face were crusted with grime, and she was absolutely filthy. She looked to be about 15 or 16 in goblin years. She shrieked at the sight of Caduceus and hid behind her roommate, who was in a similar sorry state, dressed in a ratty brown fleece-lined coat that seemed to stretch to his ankles. Underneath, he wore a pair of ragged and patched up tan pants and a dark brown sweater that was crusted with dirt. He wore a green scarf around his neck. Caduceus, after looking around for a moment, realized that neither of them had shoes, as their feet were both bare and their shoes weren’t anywhere to be found.

“ _ Scheisse, _ please do not tell anyone that she’s here, please do not freak out—” the man started to say in a heavy german accent, but Cad cut him off before he could continue.

“No, no, it’s fine, she just startled me. Your name is Caleb Widogast, correct?”

The goblin looked fearfully up at Caleb as he nodded slowly. “ _...Ja. _ That’s me.”

Caduceus grinned at the both of them. “Wonderful. My name is Caduceus Clay. I won’t tell anyone about her. Does she go to high school?”

“ _ Ja _ ,” Caleb said, visibly relaxing. “Yes, she does. Her first day of ninth grade is tomorrow.”

Gods, she was even younger than he thought. “Why is she wearing all of those bandages?”

Caleb seemed to think for a moment before responding. “We had a run-in in an alley with some people and they got her...well? Good?”

“ _ Good _ ,” the goblin whispered in minute terror, still not trusting Caduceus.

“ _ Danke _ , Nott. But, I patched her up and she should be alright.”

Caduceus noticed it now. There was a lot of puffy redness on her face. Her injuries were infected. 

“I don’t know. She’s not looking so good,” Caduceus said softly, then beckoned for them to come down. “Come here. I’ll check her out.”

The girl looked to Caleb, who nodded, before cautiously climbing down the ladder and sitting in Caleb’s wheelie chair at his desk. Caduceus knelt in front of her and removed the bandages.

It wasn’t good. The cuts on her face were wide and deep and scabbed over, but redness and heat puffed up on the sides. She flinched when he gently touched the edge of one going straight across her cheek.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Caduceus asked softly as he further examined the damage done.

“...Nott.”

“How old are you?”

“...I’m about six or nine, so maybe 14 or 15 to a human?”

“Are you excited for high school?”

“Nope.”

Caduceus chuckled, probing the edge of one coming down on her chin. “I wasn’t either. How long have you lived with Mister Caleb here?”

“Uh…” She paused. “Two or three years, I think.”

“Is he your brother? Uncle? Cousin? Aunt?”

Nott let out a huff of air through her nose that might have been a laugh. Her chest rattled as she took a deep breath. “Um… I’m his mo… nevermind… it’s too hard to explain.”

“I understand.” He sighed and rubbed her shoulder. “Kiddo, these cuts are badly infected. We need to take you to a doctor—”

“ _ No. _ ”

Caduceus blinked. “There’s no—”

“I said  _ no _ , what part of that is hard to understand?! I am not going to the doctors. Never.”

Cad’s mind reeled. What could he do? He had that spell he’d been working on for a long time, but…

“Alright,” Caduceus said, then stood up, took a step back, and cracked his knuckles. “I’ve been working on a new spell for a long time. It’s a healing spell, so I think it will help in this situation.”

Caleb visibly sagged with relief at his words. Caduceus began rooting through his herbal bag and found the component he needed, which was a sprig of dried clover. He began grinding it up with his mortar and pestle and put it in a small glass of water he had Caleb retrieve from the water fountain down the hall, and began chanting. The mixture immediately began to swirl on its own and turn a soft lavender color that shimmered when it moved. Caduceus stopped his chanting and the mixture flashed and intense violet color before settling to the same shade of lavender. He handed the mix to Nott, who hesitantly took it. Her claws clinked against the glass.

“Drink up,” Caduceus ordered gently. Nott followed his instructions, and instantly the swelling in her face decreased. The scabs fell off as her skin began knitting itself back together, leaving several scars in their wake for those cuts that were too late to attend to. Nott looked visibly healthier, too, and when she took a deep breath, her chest didn’t rattle anymore. Her scabbed and bloodied and chapped lips healed over somewhat, and her hands became less bony.

The girl, however, was still absolutely filthy, and deathly thin. 

Caduceus bit the skin of his lower lip in thought, then said “Alright, kiddo, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up for tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this mile-long text block. I got excited. I hope everyone had a happy holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so please be gentle! Let me know what you think and have a good day!


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